Unsurprisingly, it was once again the out-of-combat work which was the most important.
Master Ben Ten’s elites stayed behind, although he himself rode with us on a small flotilla of Mass Disks, Princess Kristie and Lord Mick providing the towing at the tip of a large wedge of over a thousand living troops, paramounts and juniors of the new generation alike, as we hurried overland to the southern shores and flanks.
The undead elites would handle the rather minor forces coming down the Road to Tou-Tou. The majority of the shade forces were being channeled into the flanks, so obviously we were going to be abusing one of the sides.
The non-archer Mayoi undead were, in turn, going to be hustling up to Hebian-to and the Road, reinforcing those defenses as they could.
I eyed the cliffside coming down close to the water, flexed my mental muscles and got to work.
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“Mark! Fire!”
Targets were limned with dancing Faeries Fires. Bows thrummed out, a few specialized Life Casters dispensed Imperils or Elemental Vulns. The targeted incoming Void Lord and Panumbris shades, howling in their crimson armor and burning eyes, shadowy weapons trailing tainted Elemental damage in swirls of darkly burning fires, dim purple electricity, weeping green acid, or shadowed, dripping ice, charged in at us in a mob of about forty of the things, every single one of them with over 1500 Health.
Arrows from the undead stationed on the walkway on the cliff bit into them as they streamed past. The shades could see them, but the undead were thirty to forty feet off the sands and stones, out of reach, while directly ahead of them, living Isparians were totally visible and available to fight.
We couldn’t build a wall, as that would break these creatures Summoning mindset and encourage them to go away, to find a way up those cliffs to overhead a couple miles back, and then come back and bombard us from above.
No, they had to be able to reach us, to come into melee and die, then be lit on vivus so they couldn’t come back. Despite coming in from outside whatever the Summoning system was, they still seemed bound by the programming instilled in Summoned creatures, so they wanted to charge up and they wanted to fight, instead of sitting back and first bombarding us with spells in a coordinated effort.
They were just really powerful and hard to kill, but that was fine. It just meant work.
I’d had to level out sections of the beach to make sure they weren’t higher than our fighting point. I’d put up wedges and breaks on the beach to break up the hordes and channel them into one and two-man fights against our own, where long spears could reach over and multiple people could concentrate on single opponents, while the shades could at best try to Cast spells around those in front of them.
The biggest risks were the various Drains and Harm spells, which ignored things like cover and concealment. As long as they could center a target, they could kill someone or something right through a wall, the same way they could drop Platinum and Incantor-tier debuffs and the like on them. Negative energy coursed out, attacking life energy directly, and there was no normal resistance… except for the Mass Death Wards I sent across the main fighters, encouraging them to become targets for the murderous efforts of the shades.
As pure negative energy attacks, the Harms and Drains were completely no-sold by the Wards, which the paramounts forming the tip of the fighting efforts definitely appreciated.
With no appreciation for proper tactics and no-risk slaughter, the shades were drawn into the narrow cuts, surrounded, and chopped down from all sides one by one. Debuffs came in with crippling power, were Counter-buffed or Dispelled as the recipients grit their teeth.
The most key thing was the gentle sloping arch to the ramps up. It didn’t seem like much, but what it did is remove direct line of sight from those behind, so they couldn’t unleash their powerful War Magic upon the defenders at all. The only ones we had to risk that happening on was the first and second ranks, and it took very little time at all for Kris to drive the Teamwork Feats into the skulls of everyone concerned, wolfpacking attacks whenever the things paused to spellcast cutting in and slicing deep as their defenses were lowered.
I was keeping a dozen people alive at a time, up and down the whole of the line. There were Marked in every fighting Fellowship team, giving me access to the Status effect inherent within the teamwork magic through their eyes. I could instantly see if someone ate a spell and was chopped down to half Health or less, and positive energy Shards brimming with ablative Good temporary Health on top of it all went Seeking out for the injured, promptly washing them with lots of Healing magic and some healthy Kickers on top of it all.
With Fastcast spells, I could reply to such injuries nigh-instantly when I sensed them, monitoring a dozen combats at the same time from my position behind, juxtaposing Fellowship awareness within the broad range of my Detects pinpointing the position of every soul living and Shaded within range.
Most of the War Magic of the clusters of incoming shades were spent against the archers up above, shooting behind narrow slits they could dodge behind when incoming magic tore and devastated them, plowing chunks and ripping furrows into the walls with alarming speed and regularity.
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My Shaping Stone was in constant use, as I simply re-Shaped and reformed all the fortifications being constantly blasted away, letting Mira run that constant effort.
The single spell being most-used on our side was Aural Fire, the arcane equivalent of the druidic spell Faerie Fire. It was low-tier and so very cheap to Cast, and it spotted the targets for the archers. Each person who knew the spell had a specific hue, they had squads looking for that hue, and when it popped up on a target, that target was focus-fired until it died and fell burning en vivus onto stones long turned white with the ash of the fallen.
Sharp notes rang out overhead from down the shoreline, four of them on a brazen bell, hammered with speed and energy. There were followed up with beats on bells of lead and copper.
At least two-score marguls were incoming, leading up a horde of the bounding Grievver Shredders and Shadow Zefirs, a nasty combination. Waves of things released from Tou-Tou’s nexus point were gathering together and coming down the shore, madly looking for something to fight.
“Hey, we got more godsdamn incoming, what a total fucking surprise,” Kris’ nails-on-chalkboard Warlord voice rasped across everyone, no mistaking it for anything else, a combination of grim resignation and gleeful anticipation of the slaughter that could affect anyone who loved to fight. Hearing her voice was like seeing her black nails poised like obsidian razors, ready to rip out a throat.
“Points, you rotate out within fifteen seconds on this mark. MARK.” There was some cursing and breaths of relief as the lead melee fighters, of which we didn’t have enough so the same people ended up on the same teams, rotated out of combat with shades, even if their enemies hadn’t been chopped down. There was an art to that, as Summons tended to fix on single opponents, and watching their enemies spin away from them vastly irritated the shades. A great tactic for the incoming points was simply to brace against the Shaded attempting to push past them and let the wolfpack tactics cut it down from the sides as it attempted to drive past them singlemindedly, and wasn’t allowed to.
I watched a bunch of shades wink out as dots of Fellowship members moved.
“Into Dawn Stance, rotate that ki, get your stamina back. Reserve Healers, get on them.”
An experienced Life Mage could Cast a Lead Heal Others for one mana, every time. They could also Aurora Stance for a point of mana a round. Thus, recuperating fighters could be Healed steadily to full without drawing down reserves, leaving them ready to rotate in as the active Healers and Dispellers blew through their mana far more quickly.
“Undead, focus on the marguls.” The nasty little drakes were tough as nails, hard to hit, and dangerous for their size, capable of piling up on top of one another and able to see over one another to unleash point-blank magic. “Magos, Chain Shard-ray through them when they come into range, I want them severely softened up. Healers, be ready for thirty seconds of primary duty.”
She was one of the best Melee combatants on the whole line, with only the Mick, who had been steadfastly acting as point for nearly four hours now, able to outperform her.
Instead of fighting in the melee, she had been pumping Drop, her Autobow, relentlessly, silvery bolts of Force streaking down from her central position, no archer slit for her. Incoming War Magic melted into her Null and went away, completely ignored by her and her group of Scouts following her every shot as the bolts painted her targets in light golden flames for a few breaths at a time. It was more than enough for skilled Archers with Precise Shot and Improved Precise Shot to draw beads on them themselves, threading One More Arrows through the press of Shaded bodies to bite deep into their targets.
Like a machine, she just kept shooting, racking up more damage than she would have if she had been down there hacking away, wise enough not to run into the middle of the hordes below and get swarmed by things powerful and fast enough to chop her down.
It was fine. Quaver was hovering right above her head, point-forward, and idly batting away any arrows or hurled javelins coming from the shades with casual contempt, deflecting them away with swirls of Lost Light.
Her Sword could fly around now, the total envy of every single adventurer who saw it at work, but it couldn’t fight by itself, the telekinetic force and power needed to do so not present as yet. Dancing was not a cheap Enhancement to buy.
One day of Naming Karma at a time, getting built up. It was competing for time with Indestructible, and Quaver’s Special Purpose and her associated abilities as an Item Familiar. Princess Kristie’s ability to infuse massive amounts of Karma only applied to her Rantha Template, she still was limited to the normal 1k a day or Crafting checks limits for normal magic items.
Everything with time.
I watched Kris’ current target, a panumbris shade, wink out in my Detect as a dozen shots followed hers in tight salvos. She usually got off two shots for every one of those about her, Quaver zipping around and rippling swathes of Lost Light protecting everyone from missile fire.
The Stillflight Field started just forward of the melee fight below and the walls I’d put up. They extended out fifty yards, which the incoming zefirs were going to hit and then drop out of the sky and down to the ground on their ridiculous little wings, flapping frantically and jumping around as they failed to get back into the air, yet were compelled forward to fight.
They made hard targets to hit, that was certain, and could squeeze between all the bigger fighters to try and get into position.
They were also fairly weak, and modified fishing nets could cover them up, snatch them away, toss them into the reserve fighters behind, and they could be bashed to death without being able to do squat. The experienced paramounts considered that the funniest and most suitable way to kill them ever, and never got tired of slapping a hooked net down over them, dragging them forward, and then watching a bunch of juniors with hammers and maces just beat the deadly little fuckers into smears of Burning ectoplasm.